Of Witches and Magnets
by applesandcherries
Summary: Answer to this prompt: "Helena and Myka have to take care of Claudia because she's ill." First time writing for WH13, so constructive criticism is very welcome!


Title: Of Witches and Magnets

Author: phoenix-cry / applesandcherries

Rating: PG-14?

Pairing: Bering and Wells

Summary: The prompt was "Helena and Myka have to take care of Claudia because she's ill"

A/N: Thanks to** my-turn-to-be-brave** for the prompt. I deviated slightly and had HG be the one instead. Also, seeing as this is my first WH13 fic, I do hope you can forgive me if this sucks...

"You do know that this stuff is worse than the actual cold, right?" Claudia complained through a stuffy nose, as she hesitantly took the mug of tea, glaring at the offering as if it had personally affronted her.

"Darling, do you not know by now that the more you complain about it, the more I will give you to drink?"

"Because you are sadist and clearly enjoy torturing me with your homemade witch brew. I noticed, dude. Doesn't mean I'll get any happier about it."

"I'll have you know that this is my mother's recipe and it always did wonders for me whenever I fell ill as a child."

"So that's why you are obviously delusional about the whole prospect of tea as a cure for everything. You've been brainwashed from an early age." Claudia paused to cough for a minute, mindful of preventing the hot liquid in her hands from spilling onto her. "There's actual medicine to battle a common cold, you know? You should probably get on board with that."

"Yes, yes. _After_ you've drank this. You'll thank me for it later, dear."

"I sincerely doubt that," Claudia muttered, her voice muffled behind the rim of the porcelain mug. Keeping her eyes on her torturer's face defiantly, she held her breath and took a sip. The hotness of the drink dulled the taste somewhat, but Claudia still shuddered and made a face as it hit her tongue.

Earlier this morning, she had actually been quite happy about having come down with a cold, as it gave her an excuse to stay in bed all day, watch her favorite shows (she still was ages behind on _Dexter_ and _Castle_, which was not sitting well with her at all), and above all, have an excuse to ditch inventory back at the Warehouse. Artie had been hounding her about that for the past week. In her opinion, he seriously needed to take a chill pill. Or get together with Dr. Vanessa more often. That always seemed to do wonders for his mood.

But then HG had taken to nursing her back to health. Not that she didn't appreciate the thought – Claudia wasn't used to being coddled when she was sick, and she could admit to herself that she enjoyed it quite a bit – but she would even more appreciate it, if it didn't involve The Brew from Hell.

"Don't worry, darling," HG was currently saying, seeing Claudia's reaction to the tea (as if it was anything new. She had been shuddering over the last three cups, as well). "You'll get used to the taste eventually."

Patting her leg as she got up off the side of the bed, she didn't hear the younger woman mumble "That's what I'm afraid of."

At the door, the Brit turned back and smiled warmly at the redhead. "If you need anything else, just holler and I'll be there at once."

Claudia couldn't help the genuine smile that spread over her face and the warmth blossoming in her chest, which had nothing to do with the tea. "Thanks, HG," she managed, sniffing slightly and scratching at her itching nose. It really was nice to be taken care of, for once.

Especially if the woman doing the caring was your frakking idol.

That still didn't stop Claudia from scrambling from her bed as soon as the door had closed and the older woman's footsteps had faded down the hallway. She hastily, but quietly, made her way to the window, pushed it open silently and dumped the tea out into the garden behind the B&B.

Closing the window again, and rubbing her arms against the chill, the young genius quickly slipped back under the warm covers of her bed, sighing as the warmth seeped back into her bones.

Smiling happily, she grabbed the remote from her bedside table and turned on the TV. It didn't take long until she was immersed into the world of her favorite on-screen couple, ignoring the slight guilt she felt over having dumped HG's tea.

"I do not think Claudia is particularly fond of my tea." Helena stated when she returned downstairs to the kitchen, where Myka was currently studying the items in the fridge, pondering what would be appropriate get-well-soon food. Straightening, she smirked at the other woman over the edge of the fridge's door.

"You think?"

The Brit frowned at her, and Myka again wondered how she could make that look so adorable and so alluring at the same time.

"I do not understand why everybody seems so appalled by it. I admit it is not comparable to your hot cocoa, but it is not as bad as you all make it out to be. And besides," she added defensively, flipping her hair back over one shoulder, "medicine rarely tastes like chocolate. There would be quite a bit of an addiction risk if it did, and you know that's not healthy and-"

"Helena." Myka's amused voice stopped her tirade. "I think it's sweet how concerned you are for Claudia's health and I'm sure she appreciates all you've done for her so far. Tea or no tea."

Her praise seemed to appease the other agent somewhat. Sighing, Helena smiled at her and made her way over to stand beside her, also directing her gaze at the cooling apparatus. "Tell me, darling, is there a particular reason you are pondering the items with such an intensity, or are you just standing here to cool off? If so, wouldn't it be more efficient to take a walk in the snow outside? The landscape does look lovely right now." There was a hint of a teasing note in her accented voice, which made Myka turn to her and glare playfully at her.

"I've been trying to decide what Claudia might like for lunch, but I've come up empty so far. Obviously."

"Well then, how about we make some chicken soup and prepare a couple of slices of toast for her? Would that not be adequate, concerning her condition?"

"It would, but all I could find was some packet soup. So, unless you're in the mood to make a soup from scratch..."

But HG was already rolling up her sleeves and rummaging around in the cupboards, searching for all the necessary ingredients, so Myka just sat back, and enjoyed the show.

An hour later, a heavenly smell was emerging from the kitchen, the soup merrily bubbling on the stove, the freshly prepared sandwiches waiting in the fridge and Myka was reclining on the couch. A book was propped up in front of her, but she could not take her eyes off of the dark haired woman sitting across from her, pondering over a technical drawing which was spread out in front of her. From where she was sitting, Myka couldn't make out what HG's latest invention was supposed to be, but the young woman did not mind at all. She was fascinated with how the early afternoon sun was bouncing off Helena's silky hair, making it shine even more whenever she moved her head or pushed a wayward strand back behind her ears. It also didn't hurt that the inventor's hunched over position gave Myka an excellent view of her cleavage.

Tearing her eyes away from the all too captivating sight, she took a deep breath and chastised herself. Really, when did she become the dirty old man who was constantly staring down attractive women's shirts? Oh, yes, since she met HG Wells.

Swallowing hard, she forced herself to direct her eyes back to the pages before her and not the freckles between HG's- _stop_! Shaking her head slightly, she pulled her mind back out of the gutter.

It seemed to work fine. At least for all of two minutes, until Helena's voice interrupted her torment.

"Darling, there's no need to give yourself any physical pain. Feel free to look all you want. It would be a shame if you lost that tongue of yours. Heavens know, I could think of more than one use for it, yet!"

Myka didn't know whether to laugh, cry, or hide behind the couch at being caught in her blatant staring. First, she should probably remove her tongue from between her teeth. She hadn't even noticed that she was biting down on it and Helena hadn't even looked up from her sketch! How the hell had she known what Myka was doing? She must have some special finely honed sense of some kind, which nobody knew about yet.

"Uh, I...that is to say I wasn't...uhm."

HG had the audacity to laugh at her, the silky tones of her voice giving Myka goose bumps. Finally looking up from the paper in front of her, there was no missing the mischievous sparkle in her dark eyes.

"Like I said, love, feel free to get your fill. There's no need to apologise." A smirk flitted over her lips, and Myka gulped, "I do, however, want you to apologise if you do not act on those desires soon. I do not know how long I can keep myself from ravaging those luscious lips of yours, if you continue to gaze at me like that."

Myka had to lick her suddenly dry lips and the action caused HG's eyes to darken further. Myka gulped again.

A second passed in which they just stared at each other, muscles tensed, breathing labored, then the clock ticked again and Myka was about to push her book aside and jump the table if necessary, as the alarm in the kitchen sounded, announcing that the soup was ready.

The curly haired woman groaned and sunk back into the cushions of the couch, while the other woman stood, and stretched her cramped back. Then she caught Myka's eyes with her own and murmured in a voice that went straight to Myka's core, "Hold that thought, darling."

She then strolled towards the kitchen as if nothing unusual had happened, leaving a tightly strung Secret Service agent behind.

The knock on the door jolted Claudia out of her TV induced trance, making her straighten her back against the soft cushions which were propped up against the headboard and scratch her nose again.

"Yeah?"

The door swung open to reveal Helena carrying a tray with two plates and a glass of orange juice on it. The scent that wafted towards her was making her mouth water.

"I thought you might like some light lunch."

"That smells really good, HG!" The girl exclaimed, stretching out her arms greedily towards the tray. "Oh, chicken soup! I love chicken soup! Joshua used to make me some when I was younger and wasn't feeling well!"

HG smiled brightly at her, delighted that Claudia openly appreciated her offer this time. "It's freshly made, so be careful not to burn yourself."

Claudia usually would have rolled her eyes at the advice, but the motherly concern meant more to her than she could say.

"Thank you," she said, almost shyly, and proceeded to carefully blow at the soup until she was sure it was an adequate temperature. Slurping the soup off her spoon, she relished the taste on her tongue for a moment before swallowing. "Holy Fudge, HG, this is so yummy! Dude, you've been holding out on us!"

Helena laughed, sounding oddly relieved. "Well, maybe Pete will let me into the kitchen more often now, if you put in a good word for me."

"You bet your Victorian butt I will. This soup is awesome."

The older woman chuckled, clearly amused at her charge's style of speech. "I am very glad it is to your taste. Unlike the tea you deemed only worthy enough to drown the worms in the soil outside with." The admonishment sounded serious enough, if not for the amused sparkle that never left her eyes.

"Uh, about that..." Claudia started, clearly floundering for an excuse, eyes huge and spoon frozen halfway to her mouth at being caught. The guilt from earlier swamped her again and she cringed.

"Just don't make me bolt your window shut when I bring you the next cup." An evil smirk settled onto the British agent's lips. "You know I will."

"Yes, ma'am." The redhead nodded meekly, the purple strand in her hair flopping forwards slightly in response.

"Enjoy your lunch, darling." HG said cheerily, leaving in a flurry of dark hair, pale skin and goose bumps for Claudia.

"Man, I sure am glad that she's on our side now. That woman is scary, if she wants to be."

The laughter outside her door alerted her to the fact that Helena's hearing was still in remarkable shape for a woman of 146 years.

"I do hope you have made use of that talented brain of yours and are still familiar with the last thought you have pondered before we were so untimely interrupted."

Helena's voice made her jump, her fingers barely managing to hold on to the book in her lap and preventing it from toppling to the floor.

"Uh..."

"I'll take that as a yes."

Before Myka could either deny or confirm that assumption, Helena was nudging against her hip with her fingers, gently urging her to scoot over a little. Complying with that wish, she made room for the other woman to sit beside her, facing her.

"Righty-ho, then. Where were we?" She said, letting a pale finger lightly dance over Myka's cheek, down her jaw and then back up, where it tucked a loose curl behind an ear. For some reason, Myka suddenly had trouble catching her breath.

"I believe you were about to do this..." HG breathed, while leaning forward, and asserting gentle pressure to Myka's neck, encouraging her to meet her halfway. For once, the younger woman had no trouble turning off her brain and following the magnetic pull that seemed to exist between herself and the other woman, ever since they had first met at gunpoint.

And when their mouths finally met in a sweet merging of lips, which had nothing to do with guns at all, Myka hoped that that magnetic force would never waver in its strength.

_~fin_


End file.
